The dawn broke on the morning that all the Sarmatian Knights dreaded the most. The first few years it was fun, but after 10 years it was a routine. A boring one at that. No one hated it more so than the grizzled scout. As everyone sat at the round table, earlier than the usual, Arthur stood and announced in his most excited voice, "Knight, friends, you all know what today is!"
There were groans from all around the table.
"Be happy! It is a tradition my father started and I will continue it until the day that you men go back to your loved ones."
"Arthur! This day is useless. It is the same year after year." Lancelot said in a surly tone. "A few Romans, usually men who just got their swords, challenge us and we win without even tiring."
"Lancelot, humor me. I beg of you."
"Arthur, this festival is meaninglass anymore." Bors grumbled.
"Plus, it isn't like there are any beautiful Sarmatian women to please." Galahad said, running a hand through his untamed curls.
"Is that all you think about young'un? Try to think of something else for a change." Dagonet teased the youngest present.
"Enough!" Arthur exclaimed in a frustrated tone. "This festival is happening today. I expect you all to be on the field in half an hour ready for the day." More complaints as the knights left. Arthur left to get on his roman uniform.
Meanwhile, unknown to any at the Wall, there was a small party heading to the festival, just to challenge the knights.
_half hour later_
Horns sounded. The gathered quieted as the knights stood and approached their seats. Then Arthur stood and spoke, "Welcome all who came today to join us during the marvelous tradition of this festival. The rules stand as always, you may challenge any knight in any competition you so choose. If you best one, you will receive 100 gold pieces. LET THE CHALLENGES BEGIN!"
And so it started. A few new Roman soldiers stationed at the wall challenged some of them, all lost. After a few hours there was no fun. Then there was a disturbance in the crowd. A figure came riding on a giant black horse. It was wearing a cloak, silver as a shining moon and stopped right before the stand of knights. The figure pulled off its hood and long straight red hair tumbled about to her waist. It showed a fair complexion with startling bright black eyes. The figure straightened and waited to be addressed as was proper.
"Who are you miss?" Arthur asked.
"My name is of no concern now. I wish to partake in your festival." She responded in a high, monotonous voice which help no room for question.
There were whispers amongst the crowd. No woman ever partook before.
"Very well miss, what events would you like to partake in with what knights?"
"I wish to compete in archery, swordsmanship, and horsemanship with whomever you consider the best in those fields."
"Tristan is our best archer. Lancelot our best swordsman. And all of my men are excellent at horsemanship."
"Very well, Tristan and Lancelot, and we will see who wants to challenge me in horsemanship after." I calmly state as I turn my horse around and wait for who I assume is Tristan to stand. He has longer hair with various braids and two tattoos on each cheek. I know which Sarmatian tribe he is from by those tattoos. I give my horse to my guard and grab my bow. It is a 4 foot long cedar bow with silver inlays and my feathers are fletched with owl feathers. Silent flight means no one to hear before they fall.
We approach the targets. 50 paces back. I shoot first. I aim and hit dead center. He does too. He shoots again, right next to the first. I shoot and split the back of the first one, imbedding the arrowhead even deeper. He shoots and hits on the other side of the first one. I shoot and split the second arrow. Arthur is amazed, no one has ever outshot Tristan.
"The winner is, the Challenger." Arthur states dumbfounded. Tristan skulks.
At the sword arena the woman took off her cloak to reveal black leather slacks and a tight fitted forest green tunic. She put on light armor and pulled out her sword. It was a beautiful hand and a half sword, 3 and a half feet long with etchings all along the blade. The grip was unusually long, black with the same details etched in silver. Lancelot pulled out his two swords and Arthur called out, "FIGHT!" The woman waited for the knight to make a move. After a few seconds he charged. She waited til the last minute to put up her sword to block. They twirled around each other before Lancelot spoke, "You fight well My Lady, but there are better things you could be doing."
"Oh, and what would those be?" She retorted not even angered.
"I can see you quite well cooking over a stove, or if you would prefer, keeping me company in bed." He quipped sure that it would throw her. He was wrong.
A smile graced her features. "I assure you, Sir Knight, you wouldn't be able to handle me in bed. Afterall, you can't even handle me in a fight with all these lovely women and your brothers watching."
"What do yo-" He was cut off as she then pushed back and twisted her blade around the one he was holding in his right hand. She hit the sword and twisted throwing it across the arena. He stood shocked for a moment before she swung her sword at his right side which he blocked just in time. The power behind her blows was evident as Lancelot jumped back. The fight continued for 15 minutes until it seemed Lancelot had won, him having her in a similar position to lose her sword. As he went to turn, the woman smirked and pushed a small button on the bottom of the grip. Lancelot fell forward as the sword fell to the ground leaving her holding a dagger that had previously been concealed within the sheath. She then lunged and kicked his chest pushing him back then swept under his guard, loosened his grip on his other sword til it fell then got him on the ground by kicking his feet out from under him and sat on his back, dagger at his spine.
"The winner is, yet again, the challenger." There was silence. It was common knowledge Lancelot was the best swordsman and he just lost to a stranger. What was weirder yet was that Lancelot was covered in sweat and panting, even after she got off him. She didn't have a drop of sweat on her brow and wasn't even showing fatigue.
"Now Sir Arthur, horsemanship. Which of your knights want to ride against me and my steed?" she states proudly, retrieving her horse.
"Me." A voice declares from the crowd. Tristan.
"And I." Lancelot pants.
"What about you Arthur? Why don't you join our little race?"
"Sounds like a good idea." They all saddled their horses and Jols came up to us. My steed dwarfing their still excellent specimens of horses. Two black, two white.
"The race, is too that oak tree at 150 paces, you must circle it, then jump across the creek and go to the practice dummy 500 paces away. You must hit it. Then back to the Archery arena, you must hit a target with an arrow." He moved aside. "3. 2. 1. GO!" The knights raced off while the woman seemed to be taking it slow. Almost as if she were studying them. They all reached the oak tree at the same time. It was then that the woman encouraged her horse and the distance was eaten up in seconds. She was back by 50 paces. By the time they jumped the creek, she was back by 10. She passed them to the dummy, grabbed her sword and took its head off, then sheathed it as she had her powerful steed race to the archery arena and at 20 paces she loosed an arrow that hit bullseye. She waited for a few seconds as Tristan finished, then Lancelot and Arthur came in together. Jols announced, "The winner is the Challenger!"
As Arthur sent Jols to get the money, the woman spoke up. "I don't want your money. This, for me, was a test of your legendary knights' strength. I am disappointed." She then turned to Lancelot and addressed him in the tongue of his tribe, which he only remembered as a dream. "you Lancelot are a great swordsman. You must not underestimate an opponent just because of size or gender."
Everone was in shock. She then turned to Tristan and spoke in his native tongue, "You are an excellent man, a personality that shines like the light from the sun, you should let someone in. I can see you care deeply for your horse, as all Sarmatians should, as well as your hawk. You are a great asset to your knights."
She then turned to Arthur and started talking Latin. "You are a wonderful commander, yet you fight the wrong enemy. The woads are just protecting the land of their birth which they worship while you fight against the land of your birth for a cowardly master that wot even touch a blade unless to eat with it." She turned her horse and galloped off to the distance. Arthur announced, "After her knights. Now." And the remaining knights saddled up and followed the mysterious woman.
Around the woman were 8 men all in the same silver cloaks. Her guard. They all were riding black horses, only the size of a normal riding horse. At a river they stopped. A guard with a black gauntlet on his arm look at her and she sliced her finger and scattered a few drops of blood in the water. A bridge appeared and the guards rode across. As the woman was about to, her hawk cried out and she knew the knights caught up. She told the guards to go and bring back archers. Then she called down her hawk and told her to take the blood to the other side to make the bridge vanish. Then the bird disappeared as horsehooves were heard hitting the ground. She turned and was faced with all the current knights, 18 in all with Arthur making 19.